


How Season 5 Should Start

by ryanhale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:48:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2314964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryanhale/pseuds/ryanhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I didn't like the sudden romances that surprised Derek and Stiles, nor how they were kept apart in Season 4. What if these sudden romances were just to pave the way for Sterek?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Last Howl of the Werecoyote

“Malia!” Stiles screamed as Malia fell onto the ground, smoke rising from the terrible hole that had been torn into her.  It was beyond healing, Derek realised.  

Braeden reloaded the mountain ash shot gun to finish the job, but Derek tackled her before she could fire another shot.

“Why?” Derek demanded as he pinned Braeden onto the pebbled ground.

“She’s the Desert Wolf’s daughter. She needs to die.” She said as she struggled against his hold. “Let me kill her!”

Derek glanced at Stiles cradling Malia’s lifeless body in his arms, his cries of anguish filling the beach. He looked back at Braeden and made his decision.

**A few days ago….**

Derek wiped sweat from his lush dark brow in his apartment while reading through ancient journals on his sofa. Even though he was only wearing blue sweat shorts, he could still feel the oppressive heat, and sweat was slowly trickling down his back. The tower fan blew ineffectually in the corner.

He was looking for clues to his evolution, which was unheard of. He wanted no unpleasant surprises, and also to learn to harness it better. Deaton hadn't been able to tell him much, neither was he able to explore more with him, since he was out of town for an extended period picking herbs.

When Derek called Lydia, she said she was busy helping Parrish to understand what he was, and that they were going through the entire bestiary. She sounded breathless as she spoke and her heartbeat was slightly accelerated. In the background, he heard the rustling of bedsheets and the breathing of another male. He smiled and wished Lydia good luck. 

He called Stiles next, who must have been bored, because he agreed rather readily.

When Stiles arrived, Derek opened the door in only his sweat shorts. He knew his bulge was obvious since he wasn't wearing underwear, but Stiles had seen him in much less before.

Stiles had his laptop in hand, wearing a loose sky-blue tank top that showed off his lean yet defined biceps. He smelled faintly of an earthy mix of oak and grass, mingled with sweat.

Stiles' smiled happily when he saw Derek, took a quick glance down, and entered the apartment.  He sat down on the sofa, and Derek sat across him on a chair. He shared his most exciting finding – there was an abandoned a werewolf settlement in a town about 200 miles away. It seemed to have been left behind in a hurry, so there were likely some left-over relics. Derek was doubtful that they’d leave valuable relics abandoned, but he thought there wasn't any harm trying.

“Why not make it a day trip?” Derek suggested. “We can bring the girls, stay overnight.”

Stiles coughed up something about not having money, which was why he wasn't doing anything for the summer, except crappy paying jobs.

“I’ll pay for it, least I can do in return for your help.” Derek offered.

Stiles protested and Derek silenced him with a look.

 

 

Derek loved long drives down the highway, cruising past tall pines and poplar trees towards the magnificent mountains at the end of the road that never seemed to get closer. Their snow caps were small this time of year, but were great for skiing in the winter. He made a note to ask Stiles to go skiing with him when winter came, and stay in one of the cabins, with the girls too, of course. 

Stiles' playlist ran its course on the stereo, surprising Derek at how many tunes he knew and liked. Derek overheard Stiles whispering to Malia that he didn’t trust Derek to bring the music, as he wasn't keen on broody music.  He mused that sometimes Stiles forgot about his super-hearing, and that his playlist would have been quite similar. Stiles and Malia started lip syncing to the music, making funny faces.

He wondered what funny face Stiles would make when faced with the 'deer sandwiches’ that Malia had made for everyone, lying in the basket inside the car boot. Even from the driver's seat, he could smell the blood slowly coagulating. Imagining Stiles' expression made him look forward to lunch time.

Braeden kept quiet throughout the drive. When Derek asked if she was ok, she smiled but her smile didn't touch her eyes. She continued polishing her shotgun, which she assured Stiles was unloaded when he looked at it.

 

Stars were beginning to appear in the sky when they reached the settlement. It was a group of four big wooden houses in a forest clearing next to a scenic pebble beach and a lake. The pristine blue waters of the lake tempted Derek with promises of relief from the sticky summer heat. Across the lake, the forest continued, and the majestic mountains reached for the sky from the forest canopy. 

“Derek, we should go for a swim and wash some of this sweat off.” Stiles said.

“Read my mind,” he replied, “but let’s see what we find first.”

Braeden suggested that she’d check out the house in the east with Malia, while Derek could go with Stiles to check the house in the west.

“Stay close, Stiles.” Derek said. From behind, Stiles put his hands on Derek’s shoulders, and pressed his body close.

“Close enough?” He whispered into Derek’s ear.

Derek saw Stiles’ cheeky grin in his mind and elbowed Stiles’ skinny abs, making him hop backwards. “Too close,” he said.

The house seemed asleep underneath its heavy dust blanket, smelling of must and mildew. Stiles covered his nose with one hand and waved the flashlight around with the other, muttering something about werewolves having bad housekeeping habits. 

“Basement.” Derek suggested, moving ahead of Stiles, without needing a torch to see in the dark.

Halfway down the stairs, a shotgun went off.

Stiles and Derek rushed out to the house in time to see a bloodied Malia running on the beach towards them with Braeden gaining distance. Braeden stopped and took aim with her shotgun.

“No! Malia!” Stiles screamed. Malia’s hand reached out for Stiles, her hair whipping in the wind. Derek ran to stop Braeden.

 

**Present time…**

Braeden’s body lay lifeless on the pebbled beach, blood blossoming from her neck, staining the grey pebbles a dark red. The lake lapped gently onto the shore. Derek had made sure that her death was fast and painless. But there was no such consideration for Derek, who clutched his chest as his heart ached from the loss. A short distance away, Stiles was still crying, cradling the body of his lifeless girlfriend.

His mind was numb, but by instinct, he went to Stiles’ side. He placed an arm on his buddy's shoulder and squeezed. Stiles leaned on him, still holding onto Malia, her dead eyes reflecting the cloudless, glittering night sky.

 

**The night**

Derek lay on the queen-sized motel bed, clad in only his sweat shorts, resting his head on his forearms. He had called the police to report a terrible accident - Malia was being attacked by a wolf. Braeden accidentally shot her while trying to protect her. The wolf went after Braeden instead and tore out her throat. Since Derek had wolfed out to attack Braeden, forensics would find wolf hairs on her, supporting his claim.  Stiles corroborated his story. By the time they were done with the police, it was past midnight. Fatigued emotionally and physically, they retired to their motel, each to a room meant for two.

He stroked the rough bedsheets, feeling Braeden’s absence and that familiar empty feeling when he lost important people in his life: his family, his sister, Laura, and his former girlfriend, Paige, and yes, even his Uncle Peter. _Maybe I should stop dating women_ , he thought, _such terrible luck each time_. His thoughts wandered to Stiles and he hoped the boy was ok.

He heard a soft knock on the door. He opened it to find Stiles in a sleeveless hoodie and running shorts, eyes red, wet and swollen.

“I can’t be alone right now. Can I join you?” Stiles didn’t smile and looked down at his trainers.

Derek didn’t speak but moved aside to let Stiles in. Stiles lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, fingers crossed over his chest. Derek stretched out beside him without speaking.

 _Well, at least he’s stopped crying._ He thought.

When Stiles spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Do you ever feel like you’re adrift in a rushing river, no matter how hard you fight, you can’t change anything?” Derek looked at Stiles. Stiles looked back, tears appearing afresh. “I was unable to save her.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles.” Derek wondered if it’d been better if he hadn’t asked for Stiles’ help in the first place.

“It’s not your fault, if that’s what you were thinking.” Stiles touched Derek’s hand. “Thank you, for trying to save Malia.” He tried to hold back his tears, but they escaped, dripping down his cheek. “It must have been difficult.. to make that choice.”

Derek, seeing Stiles broken, wanted to help him with his pain. He did it the only way he knew how.

“Are you sure you don’t blame me at all?”

“Yes. I shouldn’t blame you.”

“Shouldn’t. So part of you thinks that I played a part.”

“I..”

“Say it, Stiles. You hate me for asking you for help, for bringing Braeden, and not seeing from the start she planned to kill Malia, even though I should have known her best.”

Stiles turned to look at Derek. Derek heard his heartbeat and breathing quicken. 

Derek anticipated the first blow to his chest, but he didn’t avoid it. 

Stiles straddled him, raining blows on his bare chest, wailing, “why her!? Why a mercenary!?" as he hit Derek with all his strength. Derek did not flinch, nor block the blows. He'd heal from these bruises and he was willing to be his emotional punching bag, if the anger could help Stiles through his despair.

Stiles raised his fist as if to strike Derek’s face. Stiles looked at him, frozen, before collapsing onto Derek’s chest, crying. Derek held Stiles close, as Stiles wailed mournfully in his arms. As dawn approached, the wails faded to sobs and the sobs to sounds of restless sleep, as Stiles fell asleep with his head on Derek's chest, and Derek's powerful arms wrapped protectively around him.

**The next day**

When Stiles woke, he was disoriented by the unfamiliar room. He half-hoped that the night before had been a nightmare, and Malia would re-appear, alive, quirky, eating deer. However, beneath his nails was Malia's crusted blood, a macabre reminder of the previous night's tragedy. Looking around, Derek was neither on the bed, nor in the room. He sat up in bed and memories of Malia flooded his mind: her re-introduction to human society, her first day at school, their first kiss. He was thinking about the time he tutored Malia in math when Derek walked in.

“Hey.” Derek greeted him.

“Hey,” Stiles replied. “Where did you go?”

“Never mind that. Let’s get you showered and we can go get breakfast.”

“I don’t feel hungry.”

“Just a shower then.”

“I don’t feel like it.” Stiles didn’t feel like doing anything.

“Well, I definitely need one.” Derek started taking his clothes off, sliding off his wife-beater to reveal his powerful torso. He unbuckled his jeans and let them slide to the floor. Stiles pretended not to watch. As Derek walked past Stiles in his boxers, he surprised Stiles with a headlock and dragged him towards the shower.

“Hey!” Stiles exclaimed, struggling, his hands braced against the door frame.

“You definitely need a shower!” Derek, insistent, tickled him to lessen his resolve.

Stiles started laughing and the battle was lost. He was dragged him into the shower stall and gasped as Derek sprayed cold water on him.  He wrestled the shower head from Derek and drenched his attacker. The water stream ran down his perfect abs and down the soaked boxers that clung to him.

Derek retaliated by pouring shampoo over his head.

“Ok ok! I can handle that myself.” Stiles protested.

“I’ll leave you to shower in peace.” Derek said and exited the bathroom.

Stiles stripped off his wet clothes and let the shower stream wash away his pain, his memory and his tears. As the water flowed, his resolve grew. Braeden mustn’t have done this on her own – she was a mercenary, and likely had been paid.  He would get to the root of this, and save Malia’s mother before others got to her.

His thought of Derek, and how grateful he was that he had chosen to protect Malia. Even after his lover had died, Derek had supported him instead, never uttering a complaint or breaking down. Malia would have wanted him to be as strong and calm as Derek, and he resolved that it was time to stop crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene with Stiles punching Derek was actually suggested by Tyler Hoechlin at a comic con. He said he wanted a scene with Stiles, where he helps Stiles deal with pain through anger, using him as a punching bag. :)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fePrKJfMkE8


	2. Kiss of the Werewolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack celebrate Malia's short and beautiful life, and the funeral ends with two surprises. One nice, the other, not so nice.

Stiles stared at the computer screen, rubbing his chin as he pored through Braeden’s personal contacts, looking for her last calls to see whom she had contacted before she died. Through his father, he was able to get his hands on Braeden’s phone, and he had asked Derek for her laptop, which Derek had given him, reluctantly, after much persuasion and much making of puppy dog eyes. 

Danny had supplied him with the necessary programs to hack into Braeden’s phone, and hard drive on her laptop. He was visiting New York with Ethan and didn’t have time to explain everything, but told Stiles that he’d have no problems using the programs.

Stiles hacked into the phone and laptop easily, but the problem was finding something useful from the mass of data contained inside. He tried calling some numbers, just to see what they sounded like, but most of them hung up on him. One of the men remarked that he sounded young and cute and asked if he wanted to have some fun. Stiles politely declined and thanked Danny who had taught him to route the call through the internet so that his calls wouldn’t be easily traced.

The doorbell rang. He shut his laptop, straightened his tie and fixed his hair in the mirror before answering the door. Derek stood outside, dressed smartly in a black tailored suit, but unshaven as usual. He wore a white rose on his lapel.

Stiles felt shabby next to Derek. He had grown too tall for his previous suit, so he had to buy a second-hand black suit which was a little too big. Derek had offered to buy him a new suit, but he declined. He didn’t like being a charity case.

“Hi, Derek, looking dapper,” Stiles said and patted the handsome werewolf on the shoulder.

“You too, Stiles,” Derek replied, fixing Stiles’ tie. “Ready?” Derek asked, putting on his sunglasses.

Stiles nodded, and they got into Derek’s black car. As they drove, Stiles looked out the window and watched familiar avenues and town houses move past. It was a beautiful summer’s day, the sun was bright and high in the blue, cloudless sky. It was quiet in the car, except for Stiles’ gentle tapping to the songs that Derek played on the car stereo.

Scott and gang were waiting for them at the kerb, all dressed smartly in black. Lydia and Kira greeted them with hugs, eyes glistening. Scott hugged Stiles while Parrish greeted them both with pats on the back. Liam hesitated a little before deciding to hug both Stiles and Derek.

“Thanks for coming guys,” Stiles said.

From the trees where they were, they looked across the cemetery to where the priest was beginning his sermon at Malia’s funeral service. They had been banned from the ceremony by Mr Tate, who had blamed them for his daughter’s death. Sheriff Stilinsky was allowed however, and he had told Stiles he’d represent the family.

It was Kira’s idea to have their own private service. She had been the most affected in the group, as she had been closest to Malia. Both had joined the group at the same time and grown close through the scrapes they had been through together. When they were trapped in the Hale vault, they had gotten to know each others’ deepest thoughts and highest aspirations.

They gathered in a circle and watched the service from afar as they recalled their moments with Malia. They spoke of her beauty, her straightforwardness, strength of will and willingness to put her life on the line for her friends. Malia had a short time with them, but she had always lived her life to the fullest.

Then it was Stiles’ turn, and all eyes turned to him. Stiles had written quite a few drafts of what he wanted to say, but he kept the final version in his pocket. He decided to do this earnestly and sincerely, like Malia would have.

“I had always envied the special relationship that Scott and Allison had,” he said. Kira looked away into the distance at the mention of Allison. _It's tough competing with the memory of a dead ex-girlfriend._ Stiles thought. He continued, “and never thought that I would ever feel the same about someone the way they felt for each other. Until I met Malia. I knew she was special when she didn’t want to kill me at first sight.” The rest laughed.

“But most of all, I knew she was special because I could imagine spending the rest of my life with her. Malia and I dreamt of going to college, getting married, having some cute coyote cubs. And it breaks my heart, realising, knowing, that Malia will never get to do these things that we planned and talked about.” Stiles looked around. Lydia and Kira dabbed at their fresh tears.

“Her time with us was too brief, too short. But in that little time, she had taken a place in our hearts, and you had made a mark in hers. Scott brought her out of the woods and taught her to control her shifts. Kira was her best friend and she loved that you both like to eat raw stuff. Lydia was her amazing tutor in maths and fashion. Derek, you were her role model, an example that she didn’t need to be a killer like her father.”

“And she loved each and every one of you for having been there for her. We were a pack, and we gave her the strength to face each day. We’ve always said Malia fought fearlessly. That wasn’t exactly true. She was actually driven by fear - the fear of losing any of us was greater than any fear she knew.”

“She was the most beautiful, caring and protective friend and girlfriend. She has left a gigantic hole in my heart and I miss her so much every day. I find comfort in thinking, no, knowing, she lives on through the lives she has fought to save, and through us, who have been inspired by her courage and never-say-die attitude.”

As Stiles’ eulogy ended, so did the service across the cemetery.  Silence fell as the wooden casket was lowered into the earth and buried, accompanied by the cries from Mr Tate. The cries and recollection of Malia ripped the wound in Stiles’ heart anew. Derek placed his arm protectively around his shoulder while Lydia took his hand and squeezed.

After the ceremony ended, the crowd started to disperse. Stiles saw his father stay back to say some words of comfort to Mr Tate, which were accepted gratefully.

Scott asked Stiles how he had been doing as they haven’t caught up since that night.  Stiles gave an elusive answer and said that he had to go. He pulled Derek to leave. Scott looked at Stiles and then at Derek. After a brief moment, he told Derek, “please take care of Stiles, Derek.”

They drove home in silence, and Derek followed him into the house and to his room.

“You don’t have to, Derek.” Stiles said. “I’m better by myself, without distractions.” Since their night at the motel, he had started thinking about Derek a lot.

“It’s ok, I’ll just sit here and read one of your books.” Derek started changing in the room. Stiles watched as Derek took off his jacket and shirt, but turned away when Derek started taking off his pants. Derek changed into his usual t-shirt and jeans, sat on Stiles’ bed and started reading Murakami’s ‘Kafka by the Shore’.

Stiles sat down at his table and turned his laptop on. When Derek was there, his feelings of emptiness fled. However, it also took all of Stiles’ willpower to refrain from hugging him. He and Derek hadn’t hugged since the night and he needed the werewolf to wrap his paws around him now. But as he wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, he pushed these thoughts away from his mind. Besides, it was wrong to yearn for Derek so soon after Malia’s funeral.

He started looking through Braeden’s files. Looking for the Desert Wolf usually kept him from thinking about Derek, but when Derek was around, he was all he thought about. He’d steal frequent glances at him, as he toyed with his computer mouse, like he was doing now. Sometimes, he caught Derek looking intently at him.

He found it strange that Derek had been visiting every day after that fateful night, often sitting there without saying a word. Sometimes, Derek would do push-ups if he got really bored, while Stiles mentally counted his reps.

A stray thought entered his head.  _What do Derek’s lips feel like?_

Stiles decided that since he couldn’t focus, he should find out what Derek was up to. He got up from the computer table.

Derek was lying on his side, his t-shirt had ridden up to expose his abs and obliques. Stiles sat down next to him. Derek peered up at him from between the pages of the book and his thick eyebrows.

“Hey Derek, not that I don’t like you being here,” Stiles wasn’t quite sure of what to say, “I mean, I like you being here, but you’ve been here every night. What gives?” Then, it hit him. He felt silly for not having figured it out earlier. He answered his own question, “you’re watching over me.”

Derek continued, “If you don’t want me here, maybe you should stop looking. The Desert Wolf may have some powerful enemies.”

Stiles realised that, which was why he hadn’t asked any of the others for help.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Derek sat up and put his arm around Stiles’ shoulder, “just let it go.”

 Stiles looked at his hands, “I can’t - it was the last thing I promised Malia - that I’d help her find her mother.”  

Derek nodded. “Then I’ll make sure you don’t do this alone.”

Derek surprised Stiles with a kiss to his cheek, then pushed him onto the bed and lay on top of him, looking at him with his beautiful clear green eyes, that sometimes appeared blue, sometimes hazel.

“Derek, what, what are you doing?”

“Kissing you. Shut up.” Derek’s lips touched his. The kiss started off soft and gentle, but slowly became more forceful as Derek pried Stiles’ lips open with his tongue.

Stiles returned the kiss fervently and hugged Derek close. Being close to Derek numbed the pain of his loss, and also felt very good.

Derek nuzzled his neck lightly with his stubble, sending electricity through his body. Stiles moaned with pleasure. Derek took off his t-shirt, revealing his sculpted body.

Stiles ran his hands down Derek’s body slowly, savouring every moment. He wanted to take in everything. If this was a dream, he wanted to make sure he remembered this.

Derek unbuttoned Stiles’ shirt, kissing him in between buttons, then leaned back to admire his slim body and the tent in his pants. He grinned mischievously.

“I missed you, Derek.” Stiles said.

“But I haven’t been away long.” Derek cradled Stiles’ cheek gently with his rough callused hand.

“I mean, after I became a Nogitsune, somehow it felt like we were being pulled in different directions,” Stiles said, recalling how he'd started thinking about Derek then. 

"Way to set the atmosphere, Stiles, talk about your homicidal past.”

Stiles pinched Derek’s nipple. Derek retaliated by sucking on his, and discovered with delight that Stiles had extremely sensitive nipples. Stiles couldn’t fight Derek off because, well, Derek had super strength. In between giggles, Stiles begged Derek to stop his merciless assault. 

A phone ringing in the room distracted Stiles from his pleasure.

“Don’t you dare,” Derek said between slurps, “try to… slurp, slurp, answer your phone.” Derek warned before turning pale. He froze and looked in the direction of the phone.

“Is that… your phone?” Stiles asked.

“It’s Braeden’s.”

Stiles took the phone.  The screen showed “UNKNOWN NUMBER”. He answered it.

“Hello?” He said.

A mature woman answered on the other end, sounding business-like and anxious. "Where’s Malia? What have you done with my daughter?”


	3. A Boy and his Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is unnerved by the call from Malia's mother, and insists that Stiles learn some self-defense. When will they have sex?

Stiles stood in Derek’s spartan loft, looking at the array of weapons laid out on the wooden table: an electrical baton, assault rifles, shotguns, pistols, a crossbow, katana, daggers of various sizes and yes, a bazooka. He felt a little uneasy, knowing that most of the weapons had been Braeden’s. He wondered what hurts they revived when Derek looked at the grim reminders. 

He shivered. Derek's place was cold, gloomy and hard, almost like the werewolf had imposed a punishment on himself. Despite being quite financially comfortable, there wasn't much in the apartment besides functional items like the sofa and table. Was it the same way Derek had always subconsciously chosen people who had been wrong for him? Was he right for Derek, Stiles wondered - he hoped he was.

When Stiles had told the Desert Wolf, Liz, that her daughter was killed by Braeden, the woman had gone into a stony silence instead of crying. Stiles had expected some sort of crying – which woman wouldn't, knowing that her child was dead?

When she spoke, she was controlled and measured. She asked Stiles to meet her at the cemetery and show her where Malia was buried. Derek heard and shook his head. Stiles readily agreed, to Derek’s indignation. She hung up, without even a 'bye'. "Bye," Stiles said to the dead tone on the other side. He tried to cuddle Derek, but Derek made exaggerated movements to brush his hands away. Stiles sulked before Derek opened his arms and Stiles threw himself into Derek's embrace and started kissing him passionately. Derek's ever-present stubble rubbed against his cheeks, feeling rough but comforting. Stiles had unzipped Derek and taken his hot, hard cock in his hand, wanting to continue where they left off.

The phone rang again. Stiles answered, jerking Derek's cock in his hand. It was Scott, asking for Stiles’ help. Lydia had found a a dead naked man with claw marks all over his body.

He listened as he studied Derek's cock. He had seen Derek in various states of undress, but never excited. So there he was, eye level with a one-eyed veiny piece of meat which fit perfectly with Derek’s muscular physique and veiny arms. Even half-erect, it was about 8 inches long and thick. When Stiles wrapped his hand around it, his finger and thumb didn’t meet. Derek’s balls hung heavy and low, rising when he flexed his cock. Neatly trimmed black pubic hair framed his cock and balls. Stiles took in Derek's cock as he moaned softly. It wasn't a surprise that murders didn't dampen his mood anymore. 

"Stiles, are you eating something?" Scott asked.

"Mmm hmm," he replied, sucking noisily on Derek's thick crinkly foreskin. 

Scott let out an exasperated sound. Stiles imagined him rolling his eyes. If he only knew whom he was eating. He grinned evilly at Derek, cock in mouth. He knew he looked quite ridiculous. Derek laughed and looked away, but kept his hardening cock in Stiles' mouth.

Scott continued as Derek filled Stiles' mouth. The victim was in his thirties and was found in his living room, blood splattered on all four walls. Judging from the man’s fit physique and the werewolf-specific weapons they found at his home, he had likely been a hunter. Stiles briefly took Derek's cock out when he replied that he was following another lead.

"Ok, I'd feel better if you were with me though, Stiles," Scott said, "stay safe. Make sure Derek goes with you."

Scott hung up and Derek pulled his dick out. "Hey, I wasn't finished!" Stiles complained and wrestled Derek while making sucking motions and kissy noises with his lips. Derek laughed as he fought Stiles off.

Suspicious that a murder had happened so close to the Desert Wolf’s appearance, Derek decided that it was more important for some self-defense lessons at his loft. Stiles made puppy dog eyes at Derek, assuring him that he’d be safe. Derek would have none of it. Stiles was to learn how to defend himself and everything else would have to wait, he said as he zipped up.

Their grappling lessons had been a failure. Derek chose to teach him while wearing his fitting white wifebeater which showed off his muscular chest and shoulders, and Stiles had gotten very distracted. Stiles commented that Derek’s wifebeater was more effective than a stun gun. Derek gave up on grappling and decided to teach him to use weapons instead.

“C’mon, let’s start with a pistol.”

Stiles picked one up gingerly. It felt heavy. Derek stood behind him and helped him to aim at a few empty cans set on top of a rail. His first shot missed, but his second grazed the can, sending it toppling down onto the floor.

Stiles leaned back against Derek and heaved a sigh of relief.

“Again, Stiles,” Derek commanded.

Stiles aimed and sent the can flying with the first hit. He felt a rush, and fired at the last remaining can. _Bullseye!_ All cans were off the rail. He jumped and raised a hand in victory.

“Good job! You did it!” Derek looked at him, grinning proudly.

Stiles set the pistol on the table and hugged the handsome werewolf, burying his face into his muscular chest. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and kissed him gently on the lips.

“I like playing with guns,” Stiles said cheekily, reaching into Derek’s jeans. He felt Derek’s uncut cock getting hard. Derek sighed, and Stiles undid Derek’s jeans, letting them slide with a clink as the metal belt buckle hit the floor. Derek was fully hard now. Stiles pulled his boxers down too.

Stiles got onto his knees and had a good look at Derek’s hard cock. It was probably 10 inches long now, and much thicker than before.

Derek looked at him expectantly. Stiles gave the head a lick, tasted the saltiness of the precum, and engulfed Derek’s thick veiny cock. Derek moaned. He knew he had to watch his teeth, but that was quite impossible with Derek’s thickness. He felt his molars rub against Derek’s fully engorged cock.

Despite that, Derek seemed to be enjoying himself. He closed his eyes and thrusted his hips to fuck Stiles’ eager mouth, using one hand to stroke the back of Stiles’ head. “Oh, Stiles,” he moaned. Stiles decided he loved the sound of Derek moaning his name.

“Let’s move to the sofa, let’s get you off too.” Derek said, kissing and stripping Stiles as they moved.

Once on the sofa, they got into a 69 position, and Derek dived in, sucking powerfully. Stiles was so distracted by the sensation that Derek’s cock slipped out of his mouth. He felt close to cumming but Derek slowed his pace and began to slowly lick the head of Stiles’ cock. Derek shoved his cock back in Stiles’ mouth. Stiles liked the full sensation of his mouth as he was getting sucked.

Derek was starting to finger him now, all the while sucking Stiles and thrusting his hips. _God, how experienced was Derek?_ Stiles wondered. One finger went in, then two, then three. Sufficiently satisfied that Stiles was properly warmed up, Derek made Stiles stand on all fours. Nuzzling Stiles’ neck from behind, he teased Stiles’ waiting ass with his cock, smearing his generous precum in a circular motion. There wasn’t going to be a need for lube.

Stiles nudged his hole against Derek’s cock invitingly. Derek slowly eased himself into Stiles’ virgin ass. Halfway in, Stiles suddenly felt white hot pain and took in a quick breath.

“Ouch, ouch, Derek, take it out, you're too big,” Stiles said, panicking, and he tried to push Derek away.

Derek resisted, gripping Stiles’ hips firmly to keep his cock inside, “it’ll be ok, Stiles, just wait a bit.” Derek fondled him and peppered his back with kisses, distracting him. After a short while, Derek started making shallow thrusts. “This ok?” He asked, as he jerked Stiles’ stiff cock.

When Stiles didn’t resist, Derek sank his cock in all the way up to the hilt, moaning. “Stiles, you’re so tight,” Derek said, flexing his cock, making Stiles’ legs go weak. Stiles sank his head into the sofa cushion as Derek fucked him from behind, going faster and harder, his low hanging heavy balls slapping Stiles’ thighs with a meaty sound.

They changed positions again, with Stiles lying on his side, and Derek entering from behind. This position gave Derek full control and Stiles felt Derek plunge deep and hard inside him. As they fucked, Derek stimulated other parts of his body, pinching his nipples, kissing his lips and nuzzling his neck. At the end of each stroke, Derek ground his hips against Stiles’ ass, plowing him. 

“I’m cumming baby,” Derek whispered into his ear, his rhythm faster and harder.

“Cum in me, Derek,” Stiles panted. “I want you to cum in me.” He was ready to explode. Faint yellow lights clouded the edges of his vision.

Derek’s cock stiffened and grew as his thrusts became jerks. "Stiles, fuck," he said repeatedly, in between gasps and moans. He was cumming and pumping Stiles’ ass full of his cum, some of which was leaking and flowing hotly down Stiles’ thigh.

The thought of being filled with Derek’s cum combined with the sudden full sensation in his hole triggered Stiles’ orgasm. He came uncontrollably and his ass tightened around Derek, intensifying Derek’s orgasm. His cum spurted everywhere, onto his belly, past his chest and then he heard an “Ow!”

Derek pulled out with a “plop!” and ran screaming, “I’m blind! I’m blind!” for the bathroom. Stiles, feeling his face grow hot, covered his face with a cushion.

 

 

Stiles awoke in an unfamiliar room with a start, wondering if he had dreamt of the night before. Taking a quick look to his right, the sight took his doubts and his breath away. Derek lay asleep, naked, the sheet covering only his privates. The moonlight streaming through the glass windows partly lit his lover’s face and body, highlighting his sculpted features and physique. Derek looked peaceful in sleep, but with his lips slightly open and upturned, still seemed slightly grumpy.

Still admiring Derek’s sleeping form, he contemplated at how far they had come. He had been afraid of Derek when they first met. But time and again, Derek had looked out for Scott and him, protecting them any way he could, and his fear had given way to awe and admiration. Now, he wondered how he could have feared such a beautiful perfect human being.

He reached over, tempted to run his fingers through Derek’s short dark hair and stroke his stubble, but decided not to, in case he woke his soundly sleeping lover.

A pair of eyes suddenly flashed red at the foot of the bed. It made him jump, waking Derek who snarled and got into a battle-ready position. He shielded Stiles with his bare muscular body.

“It’s me.” Scott said, emerging from the shadows, looking highly peeved. “So Derek is why you’ve been ignoring my calls, Stiles?” Scott raised his voice as he stared at both of them, naked as the day they were born, raising his eyebrows when his eyes settled on Derek’s well-hung appendage. Stiles covered Derek’s privates protectively with a sheet. It wasn’t like Scott hadn’t seen Derek naked before but Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little weirded-out by the brief look Scott had made.

“You didn’t have to tell me you were getting fucked, but it couldn’t have hurt to text me that you were ok!” Scott was getting quite mad. The last time Stiles had seen him so mad was when he had spilled piping hot coffee onto his best friend’s crotch. He had to do Scott's homework for a month before he was forgiven.

Stiles scrambled for his phone and scrolled through Scott’s messages which got more and more frantic over the course of a few hours. He hadn’t managed to check his phone because Derek had wanted seconds and thirds.

Scott clenched his jaw and said that Lydia was having a field day, having found a mortally wounded werewolf in the forest right after his call to Stiles. The werewolf had been pumped full of wolfsbane-tipped arrows and died on his way to Deaton’s clinic. With his last breath, he had confirmed that his killer was human.

Scott had called Stiles, intending to ask him to help investigate. But when Stiles didn’t answer, he had gotten worried. Of course, he hadn’t known that Derek was banging his brains out, and he was not lying dead in a ditch somewhere.

“Oh shit, Scott,” Stiles scratched the back of his head, trying to find the words. “I’m so sorry.” _I’m going to have to do Scott’s homework until we’re in a retirement home to make up for this._

Scott had gone to Stiles’ place, found no one home, and headed straight for Derek’s. He had gotten in quietly just to make sure they were ok, and had found the two of them in bed together. If their nakedness hadn’t given their relationship away, the smell of sex, musk and cum sure had. He had been about to leave when Stiles woke.

“Honest, I’m sorry, Scott,” Stiles apologized.

“I’ll accept your apology, Stiles,” Scott said, eyeing Derek’s glistening body hungrily, and unbuckling his belt, “when you two make it up to your Alpha tonight.”


	4. Boy or Wolf?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott gets what he wants from Stiles, and they meet two new people - Malia's mother and a new boy, Devon, who is connected to the killings. 
> 
> Derek also finds that he's become a dude magnet.

Derek heard Stiles’ heartbeat pick up pace, a stark contrast to Scott’s steady and strong pulse. Looking at his lover, he wondered if Stiles was considering acceding to Scott’s request that had come out of the blue.

“Scott, what are you saying? You’re like a brother to me! It’s incest!” Stiles said, with machine gun speed, spreading his arms for emphasis.

Scott approached the bed and traced an invisible line on Derek’s chest with a clawed finger. “But it’s not incest if it’s with Derek,” he said, enunciating Derek’s name slowly, sensually.

“Stop, Scott,” Stiles said, looking at Scott as if he had something fragile in his hands, something that might break if handled too roughly.

Scott pinched Derek’s nipple. Derek didn’t flinch, one part of him amused seeing Stiles trying to defend his honour, the other part curious of what Scott was playing. Scott started kissing Derek’s neck and stroking his body.

“Save me, Stiles,” Derek said, crinkling his eyebrows, trying his best to sound helpless. It seemed convincing, since Stiles stared at him, mouth open, eyebrows furrowed in frustration, looking like the saddest puppy in the world.

Scott suddenly broke the tension with laughter, “As if I’d do anything to the man you love!” Scott whipped Stiles on his bare bottom with his belt, surprising Stiles and leaving a red welt. “This is for worrying me!” Scott said, before embracing Stiles, “I love you, man,” Scott said, not bothered by his best friend’s nudity. “I’m glad you’re with Derek – he’ll keep you safe.”

“I love you too, bro,” Stiles replied, hugging Scott back, equally enthusiastically. Scott patted Stiles on the shoulder and showed himself out.

With Scott gone, Derek spooned Stiles in bed, his cock hardening in between Stiles’ butt cheeks. He asked if Stiles was still horny. Stiles replied, “I’m so spent, I think I’ll ejaculate blood next. Go to sleep, Derek,” Derek was disappointed, because sex with Stiles had been mind-blowing and addictive. However, he did think it was better to stop - his vision had been going funny - he had seen orange glowing spots during his orgasms.

 

In the morning, it was raining lightly at the cemetery. Clouds heavily pregnant with rain threatened to unleash a deluge upon Derek and Stiles. Stiles fidgeted with the gun, unused to the weight – Derek had made him wear it. As they neared the meeting point, they heard the sounds of a scuffle, then a gunshot shattered the quiet serenity of the cemetery.

“Wait here,” Derek said and ran towards the noise.

He found a short blonde girl fighting a trio of Hunters, and she was losing. Derek knew from scent that she was a shapeshifter. The men she was fighting wore ski masks and hadn’t noticed him yet, so he used it to his advantage. He slashed the nearest man on the leg to incapacitate him. As the other two turned towards Derek, a gunshot stopped them in their tracks.

“The next shot will hit your head, guys,” Stiles said, gun aiming at the men. _He never listens._ Derek thought. _The menacing air of certainty and confidence suits him well though_.

As the blonde girl was getting up, snarling, one of the attackers tased her and she fell to the ground, stunned. With the diversion they created, they ran off, leaving their injured comrade behind.

Derek and Stiles went to the girl’s side. On closer look, the girl was older than Derek thought, closer to her early forties, judging from the faint lines around her eyes.  “Are you alright?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied, “the bastard who attacked me won’t do so well.”

Derek restrained the Hunter. His t-shirt was bloody and ripped to shreds, revealing tanned lean muscles marked with bleeding claw marks. Stiles ripped off the ski mask and looked stunned.

Derek looked at the teenager of about Stiles’ age, with short blond hair and petulant lips that reminded him of Jackson.

“Devon Taylor right?” Stiles said, “I know you from Beacon Hills High. Now, tell me why did you try to murder this nice lady?”

The teen refused to reveal why he attacked Liz with the others, or who the others were.

Derek noticed that the teen was still bleeding from the red gashes on his thigh. _Must have gone a little too deep._ He thought. While Stiles and Liz continued their interrogation unsuccessfully, he took off Devon’s t-shirt and used it to fashion a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. Derek felt Devon’s eyes on him the whole time, probably because his t-shirt was fully soaked and clinging onto his body, leaving little to the imagination. Devon’s cock moved when Derek touched his thigh while tying a knot, confirming his suspicion.

Liz threatened to remove Devon’s nails one by one, until he submitted. From her tone and steady gaze, Derek suspected that she was likely to carry out her threat and that she had probably done so in the past. Devon shrieked, but still refused to talk, and her claws started digging under one finger nail. He screamed. Stiles looked away.

Derek stopped her. “This isn’t how we do things here. We’re bringing him to the Hospital and we’re calling the Sheriff,” he said and picked Devon up in his arms, who whimpered and rested comfortably against Derek’s chest, a little too comfortably. Stiles growled.

“You want to carry him?” Derek asked, raising his eyebrows.

Derek and Stiles asked Liz to go with them, explaining that they needed her around to press charges. Liz explained that she had some urgent business to attend to and ran off into the trees.

 

At the hospital, while Devon was getting stitched up, Derek and Stiles discussed the possibility that the attack was linked to the two other murders. They had to check if the recently-killed Werewolf was innocent. If he was, then whoever killed him had disobeyed the code. Stiles was quite sure Liz wasn’t an innocent Werecoyote, judging from her lack of hesitation in dealing with Devon.

Melissa came out of Devon’s room, saying that he was fine after a blood transfusion. He was awake and had asked to talk to Derek, "and Derek only". Stiles growled - the second time that day. Derek placed an assuring hand on Stiles’ shoulder and went in.

The room was dim with the curtains drawn. Devon greeted Derek with a warm smile and took Derek’s hand. Devon was strikingly handsome, even in a hospital gown with a drip running into his arm and handcuffs cuffing him to the bed. Derek noticed that the hospital gown had been pulled up his tanned slender legs. It wouldn’t take much to see more of Devon.

“Thanks for protecting me from that scary woman back there,” Devon said, taking Derek’s hand and pressing it against his chest, 'accidentally' brushing against a hard nipple.

“You ready to tell me what’s going on?” Derek asked, stoically.

Devon shook his head, shifting his legs, raising the gown higher. “Can I thank you some other way?” Devon was moving Derek’s hand lower.

“Not really,” Derek freed himself from Devon’s grip, “the Sheriff will be here soon,” he said and decided that he wasn’t comfortable being in the same room as Devon. He felt dirty and violated from just the brief exchange. Once outside, Stiles greeted him with a hug and deep, passionate kiss.

“What was that for?” Derek asked, still holding onto his little man, looking into his gleeful eyes.

“Oh, just for you being your usual sour self,” Stiles replied, patting his shoulder, seeming much chirpier.

Then Derek noticed a tear in the hospital curtains - Stiles had seen the entire exchange between him and Devon. “Let’s go home,” he said, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ waist, “I think I deserve a little more of that.”

 

The day after, Derek walked in the woods, wondering if having a double date with Scott and Kira had been the best idea. It was Stiles’ idea that they should try to lead normal lives despite what they faced, and he had agreed to go along.

He thought of the night when Scott had found them naked in bed. Scott had brushed it off as a joke but even now, he could feel Scott’s gaze lingering on him. This had not happened before, and Derek was pretty sure that Scott had always been straight. He didn’t understand why he was suddenly a dude magnet. What had changed? Was it because of his evolution?

“Why so serious, sourwolf?” Stiles said, hugging Derek from behind, resting his chin on Derek’s shoulder. “You haven’t said a word to Scott and Kira, it’s supposed to be a double date, not Stiles being third wheel to Scott and Kira.”

“I’m fine, this is how I am on double dates,” Derek said, playing with Stiles’ brown hair absentmindedly. Actually, this was his first double date.

Stiles' phone vibrated in his pants, saving Derek from further explanation. It was Deputy Parrish, who apologetically informed them that without Liz’s statement, they were unable to press charges against Devon. Without a victim, they could only record a wild animal attack on Devon. Devon was freed but did not retaliate with charges of his own against Derek and Stiles. Before Parrish hung up, he asked Stiles to help him say hi to Derek.

After Stiles hung up, he relayed the message to everyone and asked Derek, “since when were you two such good friends?” Derek shrugged, smelling Stiles’ jealousy.

Kira tried to ease the situation by asking them if they wanted to see her improved control with her lightning powers. They had been unstable before and could shock everyone and block their abilities, which was why she never used it. However, since she gained her first tail, she had been practising. She showed them by first shooting little sparks at dried leaves, making them smoke and burn, grinning to herself in delight. Then, she closed her eyes and concentrated, her brows furrowing, her hands crackling with electricity. She released the bolt of electricity at a nearby tree, with a crack of thunder.

Stiles said approvingly, “much evolved, you have, Pikachu.”

The reference wasn’t lost on Kira, who smiled happily, but Derek had to ask, “what’s a Pikachu?” 

 

 

A few days after the uneventful double date, Derek was in his apartment alone, studying Stiles’ pictures and strings. Stiles had been staying over every night, and gotten very comfortable at Derek’s loft - there was a mossy green rug on the floor now and a mild oaken scent that reminded Derek of Stiles and the woods. Their nights had been full of lovemaking, but the yellow spots that kept appearing in his vision bothered him. As he still felt fine, he didn't tell Stiles about them, not wishing to worry him. He hoped Deaton came back to town soon, he had many other questions.

Like why he had suddenly become a guy magnet. Derek had decided to stay home while Stiles was out investigating because he was tired of the attention he had been getting from guys, and only guys. There was no getting away, pumping gas, buying groceries or just walking in the park, men were drawn to him. 

In one such encounter at the supermarket, one man had followed him down several aisles, going as far as to smell his hair. Derek pushed the man onto the floor and told him to back off, but without much effect. The man instead wanted a kiss and Derek left hurriedly without his groceries, running to make sure he wasn't followed home. 

The siren wailed. _That was quick for Stiles to be back._ Derek thought. He really should install an intercom so that people like the strange man couldn’t show up unannounced.

It wasn’t Stiles, however, but Devon, with his short blond hair messed up, short-sleeved shirt half open, and tight white shorts cupping his bulge obscenely.


	5. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Devon asks Derek for help and more. Derek suspects Devon has something up his sleeve, but decides to help anyway, which would prove fatal.

“How did you get here?” Derek asked, holding his hands in front of him like a protective ward.

“Took a cab,” Devon said, shrugging. “I need your help.” He confessed that he had attacked Liz because _They_ had kidnapped his sister, and threatened to kill her if he didn’t obey. The other attackers had received similar threats. But after one mission with _Them_ he had followed them to where they kept their prisoners. As he took hold of Derek’s hand, he told him the location and asked him to help save them, saying that he’d do anything if Derek would help save his sister _._ He knelt on Stiles’ moss green carpet, sobbing, still holding onto Derek’s arm.

Derek, knowing what Devon was going through, placed one hand on Devon’s shoulder. Devon’s took his hand and kissed it, which made Derek pull back. _Oh no, not another one,_ Derek thought.

“Derek,” Devon said, slowly, as if in a trance. He began removing his shirt. “I need you, please, please.”

“Stop, Devon!” Derek said, frantically trying to dress Devon. Devon took off his shorts, his swollen, dripping cock popping out with a bounce, “STOP!” Derek roared. Devon, not at all fearful, started to undo Derek’s pants.

Derek roared again and literally threw Devon and his clothes out of the apartment and slammed the door shut. Still Devon pleaded to be allowed in for a while, saying he could suck cock really well. The pleas soon faded, and Derek heard Devon’s retreating footsteps.

Derek contemplated helping to free the kidnapped family members. The boy seemed genuine enough, though he had come on him too strongly. On the other hand, it could be a trap, considering the boy’s history. It couldn’t hurt to investigate the location that Devon had shared, an abandoned factory in the woods. If Devon didn’t know he was going there, he couldn’t lay a trap, could he?

He texted Stiles, telling him that he was going to investigate Devon’s claims alone. He told Stiles not to come, and he didn’t tell Stiles the location, hoping that was enough of a deterrent.

 

It was afternoon when Derek drove through the road that went through the woods and reached a small dirt road that Devon had mentioned. Stiles had messaged him, asking for the location. Derek replied, “let me investigate first, babe.”

He parked his car a distance away, in an area hidden by bushes and made his way through the woods. The day was a little cooler and breezier, and a few leaves here and there were starting to turn gold and red.

He spotted the abandoned factory from afar but it was quiet and he didn’t smell anyone. He wondered how bad the real estate market was in Beacon Hills, that so many properties were left derelict.

There were some recent left over scents, which showed that the factory wasn’t as abandoned as it appeared. However, he was upwind, and the air didn’t carry any scents. He decided to get a closer look when suddenly, he was upside down, dangling from a tree, his leg caught in a rope.

After fifteen minutes of swinging around, Devon appeared with a wide grin, rubbing his crotch lustily. Derek decided that Devon didn’t remind him of Jackson after all.

 _Shit, was this a trap just to rape me?_ Derek wondered.

His question was answered when a group of more than 20 Hunters appeared, wielding guns and assault rifles. They had another prisoner with them, a familiar boy, lean, with short chestnut hair and looked like a very bad listener. One of the Hunters pocketed his phone.

“Stiles! I told you not to come!” Derek snarled, swinging from the tree, “how did you find me?”

“GPS tracking,” Stiles replied, looking at the Hunter who took his phone. Derek had forgotten that Stiles had a lot of Danny’s programs, and could do a lot of stuff with technology now.

 “Knock them out!” Devon barked. Stiles was hit by the butt of an assault rifle and fell to the ground, unconscious. Derek felt a blow to the back of his neck and all went black.

 

Derek awoke to the splash of water in his face. He was in a dark cell, chained up to the wall and shirtless. He wished he knew what his captors did with his t-shirts, he never gets them back.

“Derek,” Stiles called out, “are you alright?” In the dimness, Derek saw Stiles, chained spread-eagled, belly to the floor. Stiles’ hand reached out for him, a horrifying déjà vu of Malia’s last moments.

He replied, “Babe, I’m ...” A punch to his stomach drove his breath out of him. “Fine.”

“I see you’re awake.” It was Devon.  “Not so tough now, are you?” He mocked. “I can’t wait till your friends come, and I’ll kill them one by one in front of you. This is what you get for refusing me.”

Derek struggled against the chains. Even with his evolved state, he couldn’t break them, and the current running through them prevented him from transforming into a wolf. He roared.

Devon unbuttoned Derek’s jeans, pulled them down to mid-thigh, eyeing Derek lustily. Stiles tugged at his restraints. “Can’t do anything now, can you?” Devon said and sucked hungrily on Derek’s limp dick, making Derek feel sick. Stiles made many threats trying to get Devon to stop.

“What do you want, Devon?” Derek asked, ignoring the fact that Devon had his nose in his pubes. It couldn’t have been a ploy just to abduct Derek and have his way with him. Devon came up for air and raised his hand, wielding a black 3-pronged weapon. He looked like Wolverine from the X-men. He slashed across Derek’s chest, leaving a trail of 3 red parallel lines and looked closely as Derek healed.

As he repeatedly slashed and watched, Devon explained everything. Devon was from a family of Hunters who fought for Hunter supremacy, and wanted their rights back to kill Werewolves or Supernaturals without being held back by the Code.

His family had gained the support of a large group of Hunter families all over the country. They were instigating wars between Supernaturals and Hunters by killing people from both sides, sowing the seeds of suspicion and reducing the numbers of Hunters who “adhered stupidly to the ‘Code’.” Devon made inverted commas with his hands, for emphasis.

The Desert Wolf had evidence of their plans, and so they hunted her, hiring Braeden to do the job. If need be, she was to kill the Desert Wolf’s daughter to lure her to Beacon Hills. Derek’s eyes widened at the confession and he heard Stiles gasp. He was going to rip this guy’s throat - with his teeth.

“Paying Braeden to kill that coyote, or even arranging all those kills, was a waste of money - we should have just started with you freaks first.” Devon said, flicking his tongue on Derek’s nipples.

Stiles said through gritted teeth, “or they could have just started with crazy, boyfriend kidnapping monsters like you.”

Ignoring Stiles, Devon continued, “well, at least the Desert Wolf’s movements led us to you, Derek, you handsome rogue.” He fondled Derek’s balls, licked one finger and pushed that into Derek’s hole. Derek squeezed his eyes shut, feeling pain radiate out as Devon wormed his finger in deep.

“Scott’s young, morally upright pack had gained the respect of other Werewolf packs in the region. If news got out that Hunters had killed this entire stand-up pack in cold blood,” Devon took out his finger and put it into his mouth, savouring the taste. Derek felt like gagging. “This would be the spark that would finally result in all-out war between Supernaturals and Hunters.”

“After tonight, Werewolf-hunting season will start in earnest, without a care for the Code,” Devon smiled a little too widely, sadistically. “We can finally cull this infestation of Werewolves, and prevent you from ever taking over our jobs, our land, our women,” he paused and fixed his gaze on Stiles, before continuing “and our men.”

“As a matter of fact, I should take back one of our own,” he licked his lips hungrily as he looked at Stiles.

“No, no, NO!” Derek protested, struggling against the clinking chains. It was fruitless.

“Derek, I cut you, and you heal. How do I hurt you the way you hurt me?” Devon said kneeling beside Stiles. When Devon stroked his back, Stiles recoiled, making Devon laugh. With his black claws, he cut Stiles’ clothes and jeans to shreds. The ripping sound and sobbing that was Stiles’ degradation filled the cell.

Stiles, eyes tearing, looked at Derek and said, “it’s not your fault, Derek.”

 _People close to me keep getting hurt._ Derek thought regretfully. He struggled against the chains, wishing for miracle, anything. Scott had trusted him to protect Stiles, keep Devon from hurting him, but he was helpless because of - _these fucking electric chains!_

Stiles was almost naked except for pieces of clothing that Devon had left on his shoulders and lower legs. Bloody cuts made a ragged chessboard of Stiles’ soft skin - Devon had been intentionally clumsy.

He squatted in front of Stiles. “Ah, look at that beautiful face that Derek loves,” Devon said, cocking his head and lifting Stiles’ chin with one hand. With the other, he punched Stiles square on the nose.

Derek flinched as Stiles screamed and blood dripped onto the sandy floor. “Devon,” he screamed, “you got me, let Stiles go!”

Devon laughed at Derek’s protests and punched Stiles again in the head, again and again. Derek wished he could block out the sickening sound of his lover being beaten into a pulp. When he next looked at Stiles, his face was swollen shut and he wasn’t screaming any more.

Derek heard a whimpering, but it wasn’t coming from Stiles. He was making that noise - he was that 15 year old boy again, watching his family burn to death, while he stood by helplessly, with no one who could help.

Still looking at Derek, Devon smiled, unzipped and pulled down his jeans and Calvin Kleins, to reveal his swollen slug-like cock oozing precum. The sick fuck had gotten aroused bashing his lover, and was now pumping his cock slowly, precum dripping viscously on Stiles’ back, never taking his eyes off Derek.

Devon knelt in between Stiles’ legs and forced himself into Stiles ass. Stiles made a strange hollow whimper and Derek smelled the sick sweet smell of fresh blood. “Ahh, still so tight, you’ve only started rutting him, haven’t you?” Derek screamed in frustration, struggling against the chains, tears dripping down his cheeks.

In the distance, Derek heard the sound of fighting and familiar voices: Scott, Kira, Liam, Parrish, Liz, Isaac, Ethan, Jackson, a few other voices he wasn’t familiar with -and Deaton! He willed them to come fast – Stiles needed Deaton’s help as soon as possible.

Devon, oblivious to their approach, continued plowing Stiles’ bleeding hole, fucking him slowly and deliberately, while watching Derek. As he picked up pace, he said, “you know that some prostitutes dunk their heads underwater when their clients are close to cumming? The near-death experience creates powerful contractions that heightens orgasm.”

Grinning, he continued, “let’s try that, Stiles.” He wrapped his hands around Stiles neck, tightening his grip. Stiles struggled feebly, as his body fought for air, for survival. His face turned blue and his heartbeat weakened, and finally stopped. With tears streaming down his cheeks, Derek howled, a low mournful sound that echoed through the tunnels.


	6. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and the pack gather for a rescue effort. Will they reach Stiles in time, or will they succumb to Derek's mysterious attraction?

Scott heard Derek’s howl down the subterranean tunnels, a terrible sound that weighed down on his body and heart. “Derek, hang on!” he said, hoping that it’d reach Derek. He suppressed the urge to charge blindly towards him. Usually, howls helped werewolves to locate each other, but the howl had echoed and bounced around the vast labyrinth of tunnels confusing him.

In addition, there was something about Derek that was driving men, and only men, wild with lust. Even here in the tunnels, they had caught groups of Hunters literally with their pants down, which had made the job of disabling them much easier.

Having experienced it first-hand, he suspected Derek was having a mass effect on the Hunters. The first time he saw Derek and Stiles together at the loft, he thought Derek smelled different and delectable. He had been savouring Derek’s sleeping form and scent when Stiles woke up. Luckily, Stiles took his bluff, so no harm was done. That night, he went home and jerked off thinking about Derek’s hard, athletic body, instead of Kira’s soft sensuous curves.

He noticed similar effects on their group now too. Even with the faint traces of Derek’s scent, the boys were developing the flush of lust on their cheeks, lips and chest. The effects grew stronger the longer they stayed and Scott feared it wouldn’t be long before the group devolved into a mass orgy like it had with the Hunters.

A group of about 10 Hunters blocking the tunnel opened fire at them. The pack bolted into a corner for cover.

“Don’t kill anyone! Each body gives them more reason to start a war between Hunters and Supernaturals!” Liz reminded them. She had been monitoring the town with her network the whole time. She was, apparently, a superspy of sorts for the Werewolves Council, one of the many supernatural councils that represented the supernatural world in treating with the upper echelons of human governments and Hunters.

She had told Scott of the rogue Hunters’ headquarters and of Stiles and Derek’s capture. Scott had gathered everyone else, and Chris Argent brought Peter Hale. Liz had greeted Peter very coldly.

Peter had a strong muscular arm around Chris’s shoulders when Chris explained that Peter had suffered severe PTSD following the fire. Chris hoped that they’d give Peter a second chance now that he was receiving proper medication and treatment. Scott worried for Allison’s father – but his best friends, Stiles and Derek, were in deep trouble, and they were priority now. He was grateful for any help he could get. His thoughts were brought back on the present.

 “Let me handle them!” Kira said, gritting her teeth and charging her thunderbolt attack, “stay back!”

Liz lobbed a smoke grenade towards the Hunters, giving Kira time to emerge from cover to release a blue thunderbolt. The electricity arced from Hunter to Hunter until it hit Kira and was re-absorbed. The smoke cleared, revealing a group of Hunters on the ground, still breathing but incapacitated.

Lydia, Liam, Deaton and Parrish kept to the back, using psychic means and scent to navigate the tunnels which had been much, much bigger than they had anticipated.

Scott heard a collective scream from one of the rooms. He hoped that the Demon Wolf had listened to Liz and merely maimed and not killed the Hunters.

The rest of the group including Chris, Peter, Isaac, Ethan and Jackson focused on clearing the rooms and path from different directions, spreading the Hunters thinly and confusing them.

As they advanced through the tunnels, Liz told Scott that she was glad she had convinced Isaac, Ethan and Jackson to come back to town after finding out what the Hunters were plotting.

“But you were leading them straight to danger!” Scott said.

Liz, dead-panned with a hand on her hip, as Jackson threw a screaming Hunter into the air, and said, “do they look like they are in any danger?”

“Err, I guess not.”

Scott felt a familiar tightness in his pants as he caught Derek’s intoxicating, musky scent. He inhaled deeply - he hadn’t realised how much he had missed it. “This way, guys!” He shouted and all followed him.

“What is that heavenly smell?” Peter asked, as he ran alongside Scott, cheeks ruddy, his muscular chest bright red above his v-neck t-shirt.

“It’s Derek,” Scott replied.

“Oh,” Peter said, and looked down at the tent in his blue jeans. “Ew.”

\-------------------

Devon mocked Derek’s howl with his loud moans as he orgasmed, but his moans soon turned into groans. Orange glowing lines streamed from his body towards Stiles through his groin. Stiles’ wounds started disappearing, while bruises appeared on Devon’s body and blood flowed down his thighs. Devon clawed at his neck, eyes widening when he found that he couldn’t breathe.

Meanwhile, Stiles’ heart restarted, his eyes opened and he gasped for breath.

Derek seeing his lover revived, felt his heart jump with a start. More importantly, the tingle of electricity was gone! He full-shifted and charged at Devon, pushing him off Stiles. Devon staggered back onto the stone cell wall, his shrunken cock flapping impotently as he struggled to breathe.

Scott, bloody from head to toe, barged in at that moment, snarling. He closed the distance in a blink and slashed Devon’s chest. Kira, in sync, ran Devon through his belly with her katana. Devon raised his obsidian claws to attack, but Kira sent a bolt of electricity through her katana, stunning him. The black obsidian claws dropped onto the sand harmlessly. Kira retracted her katana, letting Devon fall face first onto the ground.

Liz and Parrish came in to remove Stiles’ shackles, while Deaton examined him.

“This isn’t the dream where I went to class naked right?” Stiles said weakly as Derek gathered Stiles into his arms for a great big hug. Derek then noticed that Scott and the rest of the guys were trying to hide their hard-ons with little success, because they were so very hard. He heard Peter with Chris outside saying something about “unnatural attraction.”

Deaton adjusted his sizeable erection and said, “Derek, we need to turn off your pheromones.” In response to Derek’s raised eyebrows, he explained that a druid was able to balance energy and control the flow of energy and emotions. A werewolf had a similar gift, which allows them to absorb pain.

“When a druid and a werewolf have sex, it forms a very pleasurable feedback loop – because you’re feeding off each other’s emotions and the pheromones intensify. Usually, after that, the pheromones switch off. In your case, Derek, it seems your evolution made the feedback loop effect so strong, it failed to switch off.”

“Wait, which druid did you have sex with, Derek? I thought you were only fucking Stiles..” Scott paused and upon realisation, only said, “oh,” and left his mouth open.

“I always knew you were magical, Stiles,” Lydia said with a wink, holding Stiles hand.

Deaton continued. “Let’s fix that at the clinic, Derek, before everyone gets Peyronie’s, including me.”

Scott and Isaac supported Derek on their shoulders, but neither could resist taking a surreptitious sniff of his hair, as their hands half-caressed, half-carried him. Derek said, “I feel so violated.”

“And what happened to Devon?” Stiles asked, as Deucalion carried him in his arms. “I think I died and then I felt this energy flow into me.”

Derek noticed the way Deucalion looked at his boyfriend, as if thinking about making Stiles part of his collection. But that was a problem for another time.

“Interesting,” Deaton said, prodding Devon’s bloody ass, “it seems like you balanced your energies and passed him your injuries.” He put on his sunglasses before continuing, “You could say - he royally fucked himself.”

 

# Epilogue

Everything in the woods seemed asleep, hibernating and waiting for spring. Snow swirled gently to blanket the landscape in white. The moon shone bright in the sky, casting its pale light on the quiet woods and into the glass windows of a log cabin, where a group of teenagers and a particularly grumpy wolf sat around a crackling log fire.

Stiles was curled up next to Derek on the couch, stroking his boyfriend’s hairy arm. Scott was cuddled up with Kira under a blanket on the rug, while Parrish sat with Lydia holding her hand.

Derek had invited Chris and Peter as well, since he considered Chris a valuable ally, friend and family. And by the happy sounds that Chris and Peter were making in the bedroom, Chris was going to be literally family. Scott was listening intently and blushing. Derek signalled Scott to stop listening, for his sanity. Scott grinned widely.

Melissa and the Sheriff were in the kitchen, making a dessert of some sort. They seemed to be having fun, talking about Scott and Stiles being practically brothers already.

“So, you’re going to be working permanently with Scott at Deaton’s clinic now?” Derek asked, stroking Stiles back, resting on his bubble butt and giving it a slight squeeze.

Stiles nodded. Since the encounter with Devon, Deaton had been training Stiles to control his power so he didn’t accidentally drain another person’s energy or turn on Derek’s pheromones by mistake.  Devon survived the encounter, though it was unlikely that he’d survive Beacon Hills prison – there were a lot of sex-starved offenders in there, and Devon was everyone’s type. (Liz informed them that some nights, everyone took a turn with Devon.)

“So you’re like Deaton’s Padawan,” Derek said.

“You watched Star Wars?” Stiles’ lifted his head to look at Derek, smiling with surprise.

“Just for you,” Derek said and to the others, he narrowed his gaze and warned, “don’t tell anyone about this.” They burst into laughter. Derek made a face with an upturned mouth, looking more like grumpy cat. “My threats used to work better.”

Melissa and John joined them in the living room, as the smell of baking chocolate cake filled the cabin.

“Ok, it’s present time!” Lydia said, getting up daintily with Parrish in tow to lug the secret Santa presents over. “And we’re not waiting for Chris and Peter!” She shouted, loud enough for the two to hear. Derek heard no slowing down or stopping in their rhythm.

They went round, revealing presents and secret Santas. Derek presented John with an aluminium baseball bat, and said they should “play together sometime, instead of using the bats as weapons”. John was delighted with the present and gave Derek a hug. Derek was at first startled by the show of affection from the Sheriff, but he returned the hug.

John got Melissa a simple silver necklace “for protection” and helped her to put it on, amidst knowing glances around them. Melissa shushed all of them.

Melissa gifted Lydia with a bath set.

Lydia gave Kira a K-Pop album that Kira had been looking for ages. “How did you know?” Kira gasped.

“Psychic, remember?” Lydia smiled and pointed at her head. “Actually, you mentioned it one day while we were out shopping.” Lydia had ordered it online the next day.

Kira’s present for Stiles was a Star Wars-themed chess set, with Sith Lords and Jedi masters, as rooks, knights and bishops. Stiles marvelled at the gift and hugged her tight. She said, “I had to ask Scott and Derek. They gave me the same answer.”

Stiles’ gift for Scott was a guitar. Actually it was Scott’s guitar, but Stiles had replaced the strings so it worked again. Scott played a few chords. Derek had never heard Scott play before, and was pleasantly surprised by his talent. Scott promised to play a few chords for Christmas carols after the exchange.

Scott’s present for Derek was a few new t-shirts because he realised that Derek kept losing his t-shirts. One was a really cool black t-shirt with a beautiful orange phoenix on it.

“Is that what you are?” Derek asked, looking at Parrish.

“Have to kill myself to find out, and I think that’ll be my last resort,” Parrish replied, smiling. As well as not knowing what he was, he also couldn’t find out what his present was, since he was in a secret Santa triangle with Peter and Chris who were still going at it. Stiles told Derek quietly that he hoped they’d still have that much passion for each other at that age.

As the night ended, and after much chocolate cake and Christmas carolling, Derek and Stiles settled into their room for two. Stiles plopped himself down on bed, beckoning Derek seductively and patting the bed beside him.

Derek smiled, “let’s wait till we’re home? I don’t want to be an exhibitionist like my uncle.” He took out a shiny black box from the wardrobe.

Stiles spread his arms wide, with excitement, “my present!”

“Merry Christmas, babe.”

Stiles opened it to find a new shiny (black) laptop. Stiles squealed and hugged him, obviously delighted with his new toy.

“I thought you needed something faster, since you really wanted to play Dragon Age 3.” Derek said.

“Thanks, Derek. I got you something too but not as good,” he said, as he took out a small rectangular velvet box from his jacket. He obviously didn’t have his boyfriend’s budget.

“Jewellery?” Derek raised his lush eyebrows, “You’re spoiling me!”

He opened the box to find a stainless steel bracelet with a nameplate engraved “Sourwolf”. He laughed and hugged Stiles. “I love it, babe,” he said and kissed Stiles’ forehead.

He continued, “but you’re the best present I got this year. I love you, Stiles Stilinsky.”

“I love you too, Derek Hale,” Stiles said, enveloped in Derek’s powerful arms, and met Derek’s lips with his own.

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tyler Posey suggested that Stiles would repair Scott's guitar for him, as a present. So, it set me thinking what each of the characters would buy for a secret Santa gift exchange.
> 
> This is the longest piece of fiction I have ever written - my previous pieces (not shared here), were probably about 2000 words at most, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to complete this. But I did! I hope that it was fun for you to read, and I'd welcome your comments on how to improve my writing (e.g. what would you like to have seen more of, if any part was confusing etc).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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